


Tempted

by trillingstar



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Breathplay, Community: 50kinkyways, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-11
Updated: 2008-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You touch his neck delicately, running a finger over the line where the fabric ends and skin begins.  His expression softens.</p><p>"Always," he repeats, devastated.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempted

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Badtyler.  
> 

  
You've been moving over him for hours, maybe, definitely long enough for your wrists to hurt as they bear your weight. You feel liquid, your movement fluid, but you're grounded, too, by the heels of his feet digging into your back, and the noise of his breathing filling up the room. You're spinning madly out of control and entrenched in him at the same time. Your body aches from the sheer intensity of it.

You thrust, hard, and your cry of pleasure echoes back to you from his throat. He looks insanely sexy, laid out beneath you, flushed and mussed, with messy hair and pleading eyes. The air around you seems to shimmer with the heat from his skin. He's your false oasis, promising to quench your thirst, but instead stokes up the flame, the fire in the space between you crackling, burning.

No one could possibly blame you for allowing him to work his magic on you, to taunt and tease, to utterly bewitch you.

You allow yourself one kiss – one taste of his mouth, a nearly chaste slide of lips on lips – _nearly_, because nothing about the man writhing below you is chaste. You've never so much as touched him without feeling that shock, the spark, an onslaught of delight, lust, and adoration. The combination is unique, and oh, you are heady with it.

Kneeling up, you stare down at his chest, the way the muscles of his abdomen seize under your touch, and then back up to his eyes, blue like the sky, and filled with love.

You can't look away.

The heat between you ratchets up further when you drag the cool, silky material over his arms and stomach. You share a shiver of pure lust. Your fingers feel thick and clumsy, and you're sweating enough to prevent a firm hold on the silken tie. He unwinds his legs from around your waist and you hear him sigh as his muscles relax. He's nearly boneless, malleable, and you thrust a few more times just to watch his eyes roll back and listen to his breaths stutter out of his body. You grab his knees and bend his legs up in one smooth motion, your chest pushing against his calves and holding them close to his chest.

He gasps out your name and you grin down at him, a savage feeling of desire, possession, and joy filling you up. He's excited by your forceful behavior; your proof is his hard cock. Lightly, you brush your fingers through the wetness at the tip and he gasps again, arching up as best he can. You grind him down into the mattress, your skin slip-sliding against his skin, and you wouldn't be surprised if steam rose from your bodies.

He's pliant, groaning, his eyes closed, off in some world of your making, one of unending pleasure, ruled by sensation. Slowly, you slip the cool, slinky tie across his shoulders and around his neck. He trembles, cheeks pink, eyes bright in anticipation. He tries to keep his expression outwardly calm, though, and watches steadily while you carefully tie a loose slipknot, following each separate step with his eyes; his body betrays him, bucking up eagerly when you tighten it like a necklace at his throat. His nipples are hard and pebbled, his cock leaks onto his stomach, and his hands are fisted in the sheets.

He's so excited that he _keens_ at you, desperate, his whole body thrumming with need.

You wrap the end of the tie around your hand, delivering a short tug with each rotation. The pupils of his eyes are blown, he's panting, he's gorgeous. You want to keep him like this _always_. Biting your lips, you take a firm grip on each of his knees to steady yourself, then push inside as you pull on the tie, and he rears his head back, trying to pull the line taut.

You let it go slack immediately and he glares up at you. Arching an eyebrow, you lean forward, pressing down on his legs and torso, reminding him of who's in charge, reassuring him that you'll take care of him.

"Trust me?" you ask. Tying another knot, you slip it over his foot, sliding it up and tightening it over his kneecap.

He acquiesces, stretching his neck, exposing his throat.

"Always," he whispers.

You touch his neck delicately, running a finger over the line where the fabric ends and skin begins. His expression softens.

"Always," he repeats, devastated.

Regaining a good grip on the tie, you yank your arm all the way back then and thrust forward simultaneously. He grabs onto your thighs, and then groans, a strangled sound of fulfillment.

Seconds pass and then he starts to wheeze, his nostrils flaring as he tries to breathe. You tighten the tie once more, pulling on it, rocking into him, and his mouth gapes open as he tries to sucks in air, searching for respite from a closed windpipe.

Really, you shouldn't find this as incredibly hot and sexy as you do, but – _but_ – if he was gorgeous before, he's mind-shatteringly beautiful now, and he's _yours_, all of him, even this intensely private part of him that you get to experience with him alone.

His eyelids flutter and you're really pounding into him now, your cock like a weapon, your hand keeping the tension in the line, brandishing your power in front of his glassy eyes. He's still moving against you, but weakly, and you watch his face carefully, how his upper chest rises and falls in small jerks, fruitlessly searching for oxygen.

You've been ready to come for hours. It's hard to say which of you gets off more on this, so the instant you see him start to drift, you push into his body, shove two fingers into his open mouth, crooking them up against the roof of his mouth, and pinch his right nipple hard enough to elicit a deep growl from the depths of his throat, using the last of the breath from his lungs.

Thrashing, he comes in three long spurts. His legs kick out reflexively and he chokes himself, then passes out.

You should be embarrassed or ashamed of the thrill you get from finishing yourself off in his unconscious body. But it's the thought of disapproving faces watching that sends you tumbling into your orgasm, your cock throbbing inside of him, fingers trembling, muscles straining as you come.

"Chris!" you shout, your head thrown back, sweat rolling down your back, and his cum on your skin, branding you. He's already branded himself across your soul, so there's no reason not to give a little more.

You swipe the scissors off the nightstand and cut the tie. His head falls to the pillows, his mouth still open, his breaths slow and regular. You snip the loops at his knee and neck, tossing the ties off of the bed. Curling up behind him, you'll pet the skin of his thigh softly, breathing in his scent, until he awakens.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt 14: breathplay at 50kinkyways (LJ).  
> 


End file.
